Essays and poems about amusement parks

A long time ago, colorful, naughty and lovely children's ice cream, the smell of popcorn, the rotation of colorful wooden horses, and the angels waving their wings shed innocence and happiness in the Children's Day amusement park. My mother is beautiful and happy. Legend has it that I always look up at it and can see the depths of happy time. When I grow up, the photos of Children's Day fade, and I occasionally miss those happy moments. The blue sky is still clean and transparent, so sad that I want to cry. In the single apartment on the seventh floor, I was so sad that I didn't even have an amusement park. I can only miss my mother.